


something like tacos

by i_want_to_write_you_a_fic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Getting Together, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21882811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_want_to_write_you_a_fic/pseuds/i_want_to_write_you_a_fic
Summary: Inspired by a scene in an episode of NCIS: Los Angeles, with sex. And feelings.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 2
Kudos: 132





	something like tacos

**Author's Note:**

> This is honestly just an excuse to write porn. I’m almost 100% positive this makes zero sense. I truly do not care! :) 
> 
> Hope you like it!

Stiles looks around the restaurant, fidgeting in his seat and smoothing his hand down the front of his shirt to try and get rid of the wrinkles. 

“Would you sit still already?” 

Stiles’ gaze snaps back to Derek. “I would if I wasn’t feeling a little more than  _ slightly _ underdressed. Thanks for that, by the way.” 

Derek rolls his eyes. “Stiles.”

“ _ ‘Something like tacos sounds good _ ’,” Stiles mocks in voice that doesn’t sound like Derek at all but he doesn’t care because Derek is an asshole. “This is  _ not _ something like tacos. This is—“

“Somewhere to eat,” Derek cuts in, exasperated. “If we’d waited any longer for you to decide we would starve.” 

Stiles scoffs. “Whatever.”

He goes back to squirming, hoping no one can see the ketchup stain on his jeans from lunch. The people around them at the other tables are dressed in expensive clothes and shoes. He thought they were gonna end up at another food truck. Honestly, Stiles could kill Derek for this. 

Okay, not really, what with the whole being in love with him thing. But  _ wow _ , he is  _ super _ mad at him right now.

What makes it worse is that he’s pretty sure Derek loves him too, but since he’s emotionally constipated from extremely shitty past relationships, he won’t admit it. He just keeps being stupidly kind to Stiles and annoying at the same time. 

If Stiles didn’t know any better he’d think this was a—

...

Stiles narrows his eyes, turning his attention back to Derek, who merely raises a single brow in question. 

Typical. 

“Are you really doing this right now?”

The other brow joins the first. “Doing what?”

“Did you take me on a date without  _ actually _ asking me on a date?” Stiles demands. 

Derek tenses. It’s pretty damning. 

“I can’t believe you,” Stiles mutters, wiping a hand down his face, leaning back in his seat with a sigh. 

“When are you ever going to use your fucking words, Derek? I swear to god. I understand your aversion to all things romantic, I really do. But either you get your shit together and tell me how you feel, or we can’t—“

“I don’t want to be here with you right now.”

Stiles’ mouth closes with a click of his teeth. He blinks.

“Excuse me?” 

He’s not quite sure he was able to keep the hurt out of his voice. 

Derek is the one squirming in his seat now, clenching his jaw and rubbing his hands on his jeans. 

“I don’t want to be here with you,” he repeats, squaring his shoulders and finally meeting Stiles’ eyes. “I want to be at my apartment. With you. Right now.” 

Stiles blinks some more. Derek keeps his eyes on him, unwavering. 

Stiles feels like his heart is trying to beat out of his chest. His cheeks are suspiciously warm and so is the back of his neck. Did they turn up the heat in here? 

Because Derek… Derek just basically… 

“You…”

A ghost of a smile passes over Derek’s face. “If I’d have known propositioning you was all it took to get you to shut up I’d have done it ages ago.” 

“If you hadn’t fried my brain I would have such a good comeback,” Stiles insists. 

Derek huffs a small laugh. 

“You want… You want—“

“You, yes,” Derek says. “Any way I can have you. You’re right. It’s time I take a chance. I know you aren’t… them. I want  _ you _ , Stiles.” 

A tense moment of silence passes through them, neither of the two taking their eyes off each other. Slowly, Stiles reaches for the napkin in his lap. He bunches it up messily and drops it on his empty plate. He stands, raising his own brow at Derek.

“Well?” he asks. “Are you gonna sit there twiddling your thumbs or are we going to your place?”

Derek, who’d been watching Stiles in confusion, twitches. Stiles smirks. Derek quickly tosses his own napkin and digs in his wallet for a twenty dollar bill, dropping it on the table despite the fact they haven’t even ordered anything yet. 

They make their way out of the restaurant at a brisk pace. Stiles can feel the heat of Derek’s hand hovering at his lower back and it sends a shiver of anticipation up his spine. 

“You’re lucky you live only a few blocks away,” Stiles states. 

“Why’s that?” 

“I’d hate for my dad, the sheriff, to catch us in your backseat.”

Derek trips over nothing and glares at Stiles’ back. 

The drive to Derek’s, thankfully, only takes about ten minutes. Any longer and Stiles wouldn’t have made it.

As soon as the door is closed behind them, they seem to only be able to stare at each other for a long moment. Stiles isn’t sure who moves first, but within a blink, their mouths are attached. Stiles has his hands buried in Derek’s hair, and Derek’s got a firm grip on Stiles’ hips. 

With a reluctant groan, Stiles pulls away, his fingers clenching and unclenching in Derek’s hair. “This isn’t just, like.” He stops, licking his lips as he tries to find the words. 

Derek looks pissed that Stiles stopped kissing him. “It’s not just a one-time thing. You’re more important to me than that.”

“Oh,” Stiles replies. “Okay. So—“

“Shut up, Stiles.”

Derek doesn’t give him a chance to even  _ try _ and make a retort because he’s back to devouring Stiles. 

They stumble their way through the apartment, bumping into the couch and walls, huffing laughter into each other’s mouths. It’s the best taste, in Stiles’ opinion. 

Finally, they reach the bedroom, and there isn’t a single hesitation in Derek’s movements as he pushes Stiles with a purpose so they’re falling onto the mattress. Their hands push and pull at their clothing, impatient, grunting and still biting kisses into whatever skin is nearby. Once they’re naked, Derek reaches over into his nightstand and pulls out lube and a condom. 

“I’d really like to blow you first,” Stiles finds himself blurting. 

Derek pauses, then nods. “I can work with that.”

Stiles grins, nudging Derek to switch places so that Derek is lying on his back on the bed. He fits himself between firm, muscled thighs, eyeing the hard cock before him. Stiles can’t bring himself to tease. He licks a stripe up the underside then immediately takes the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and humming at the salty taste of Derek’s precome. 

“Fuck,” Derek swears, reaching out to hold on to the sheets with a white-knuckled grip. 

Stiles takes more of him into his mouth, slowly starting to bob his head up and down, using his hand to twist around the base where he can’t reach with his mouth. Little punched out grunts and whines escape Derek, his hips twitching up into the warm suction.

Stiles reaches for the lube while Derek is distracted, gets a couple of his fingers slicked. At the first touch of his forefinger, Derek’s legs come up around Stiles’ head. 

“ _ When did you _ —oh my god,” Derek moans. 

Stiles tries to smirk around the cock in his mouth but it doesn’t quite have the effect he’s looking for. Plus, Derek’s got his head thrown back against the pillows anyway. 

He works the single finger into Derek smoothly, thrusting it nice and easy while he picks the pace back up on sucking his cock. Soon he has Derek writhing, whining and pushing at Stiles’ shoulders. 

“Stop, stop, I’m gonna come.”

Stiles pulls off with a pop, spit dribbling down his chin. “Isn’t that the point?”

Derek is panting, staring at him from under his lashes. It’s ridiculously beautiful. 

“I want to fuck you. I want to come  _ with _ you.” 

Stiles can’t help the grind of his hips against the mattress at that. 

“Fuck, okay,” he moans, nodding. “Okay. I want that too. Let’s do that.”

“On your back,” Derek demands. 

Stiles easily follows, shoving one of the pillows under his hips and spreading his thighs for Derek. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

“Don’t get sappy on me now.”

Derek levels him with a look. “You wanted communication,” he reminds Stiles. He settles himself between his legs, his broad palms pushing Stiles’ knees to his chest. “I’m giving you communication.”

Stiles swallows roughly. 

“Keep them here,” Derek advises, patting his thighs.

All Stiles can do is nod. 

Derek slicks his fingers up then, barely sparing a glance at Stiles’ face before he’s pushing a finger in his hole. Stiles groans deep in his chest, his eyes closing as he adjusts to the feeling. It’s been a while since he’s had anyone else do this to him, and his own fingers aren’t as thick as Derek’s. 

They work up to three of Derek’s fingers before Stiles gives in and starts begging. 

“Please, please,  _ please _ , Derek, oh my god, please,” he babbles. “I need you, babe, please, I’ll be so good.”

“Christ,” Derek hisses. “Okay, okay, just—“

He cuts himself off, patting the sheets around them for the discarded condom and hurrying to put it on. Stiles grips behind his knees and brings his legs up even higher. 

“Please,” he whispers, his body alight with lust and need. 

“I’ve got you,” Derek replies, lining himself up. 

He pushes in and they both groan. Derek tries to give Stiles time to adjust, but he smacks Derek’s shoulder and tells him to fucking  _ move _ , so Derek does. 

He sets a hard, steady rhythm, fucking into Stiles like his life depends on it. Stiles lets go of his knees and instead reaches up to hold on to the headboard to stop himself from being pushed up the bed from the force of Derek’s thrusts. Derek kisses him then, rough and desperate, biting at his lips and grunting into his mouth.

Stiles knew it would be good with Derek. But this? This is beyond his imagination. 

Derek’s pace picks up and he shifts the angle. Suddenly sparks fly up Stiles’ spine and he’s shouting. 

“ _ Fuck _ ! Oh god, oh  _ shit _ —fuck, Derek, please don’t stop, fuck, oh my god.”

He listens, pistoning his hips to make sure he grazes over the spot that has Stiles whimpering Derek’s name. 

Stiles grips his cock in his hand and starts to full-on sob at the pleasure consuming him. Derek groans when Stiles clenches down on him. 

“Are you close?”

Stiles nods quickly, biting his lip. 

“With me, Stiles, okay? Come on. Look at me.”

Slowly, Stiles blinks open his eyes, finding Derek’s intense gaze staring back at him. 

Derek thrusts faster, the sound obscene and loud in the bedroom. Stiles’ mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. 

“Now, Stiles. Come with me now.”

His whole body seizes up then, toes curling, head thrown back in ecstasy. His throbbing cock shoots come up to his chest. Derek growls into Stiles’ neck and gives one, two, three hard thrusts and stills, grunting as he fills the condom. 

Stiles finds his limbs twitching as he comes down from his orgasm, his breathing labored. Derek is barely any better. They lie there for a moment, basking in the afterglow, but then Derek eases himself up and out of Stiles. He ties off the condom and tosses it into the trash. 

“We should shower.”

“It’s cute that you think I can move right now.” 

Derek smiles tiredly and it’s somehow the sexiest thing Stiles has ever seen. 

“Bath?” Derek suggests. “I can carry you.”

Stiles pretends to think about it. “Fine, I’ll allow it.”

Derek rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling so Stiles is pretty sure it’s a fond eye roll. 

He stretches where he’s still spread out on the mattress, and then Derek is leaning down to press a soft kiss on Stiles’ lips. 

“I love you,” he murmurs. “In case you needed to know.”

With a flutter in his stomach, Stiles grins. “I love you too.”

  
  
  



End file.
